


vacation town

by daringyounggrayson



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [17]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batman Bingo, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Poisoning, Recovery, stab wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daringyounggrayson/pseuds/daringyounggrayson
Summary: Normally, Dick wouldn't enjoy recovering from a stab wound via a poisoned knife, but he has to admit, it's nice to be home.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833130
Comments: 14
Kudos: 181





	vacation town

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: Could you maybe do Recovery as a sequel to that ficlet you did recently where Dick gets stabbed then passes out in the Batmobile as Bruce is lecturing him?
> 
> Writing this was so much fun, I hope you like it! And if anyone got an email notification for this fic and is wondering who the hell I am, I'm the writer formally known as TheImaginativeFox. I finally changed my username and I'm really happy with it, but sorry for any confusion 😅
> 
> Oh, and to make this easier to read, I went ahead and added the first ficlet to the beginning of this fic! The "sequel" starts after the first oOo

The bust is a success and the criminals are all tied up and waiting for the squad cars in a matter of minutes. It’s not until after the criminals are being driven away in said squad cars that Bruce approaches Dick.

Dick is sitting on the ground and leaning against a wall, hands pressed firmly against his abdomen where one of the goons had slashed him with a knife. Bruce never asked if he was alright; Dick offers Bruce an easy smile anyway.

Bruce’s frown deepens. “Your performance tonight was reckless,” he states, reaching down to help Dick to his feet.

“Oh, saving your ass back there was no problem. Don’t mention it,” Dick replies lightly, leaning heavily against Bruce as they walk to the car.

“The way you went about it was flashy and unnecessary. You could have done better.”

Being upright is hard, walking is harder. He’s out of breath after a few steps.

“Why is it that every time I get hurt, it’s always. . . _my_ fault and never. . . never the guy with the knife’s?”

“You were trained to _dodge_ knives. You were sloppy, _reckless_ ,” Bruce grumbles, readjusting his grip so that Dick won’t slip.

“Already reusing adjectives there, old man?” Dick comments, to which Bruce merely offers a disapproving grunt. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to lecture . . . you might as well use some . . . some variety. A little creativity, if you will.” 

Bruce doesn’t answer, just opens the car and helps Dick inside. It’s a tense silence that follows, it makes Dick frown. 

“But then again, look who I’m talking to. Batman, wearing his _Bat_ suit, putting me into the _Bat_ mobile, and surely using all of his willpower to stop himself from chucking a _Bat_ arang at me.” Dick might have been the one to start using those names, but he’d been all of eight at the time, and Bruce is the one who’s a few years shy of forty and still using them.

“ _Nightwing_.” It’s a warning. Dick doesn’t care. 

“What? Please, enlighten me on all of the things I did wrong tonight. And not that I have to ask, but just leave out all of the details about how I did almost everything _right_.”

“What we do is dangerous. You need to take it seriously.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Bruce doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look up. “See, this is why I didn’t want to come tonight.”

“I never asked you to.”

(Except he did, just not in those exact words.)

Dick scoffs and looks out the window, letting Bruce drive them back to the cave in silence. At least, he does until his stomach goes numb and the edges of his vision blur and darken.

“Bruce.” Dick’s hand reaches out to grab Bruce’s arm, tight. “Bruce.”

Bruce’s face stays on the road, but Dick feels his eyes on him. “Talk to me.”

“Gonna pass out. I think the blade was laced with something.”

Dick feels the car pick up speed, and just before he passes out, he hears Bruce telling him, “You're going to be just fine, chum. I’m right here.”

oOo

Dick wakes up shaking and feeling worse than he did before he passed out. The numbness has been replaced by a burning sensation, but somehow he still feels cold—that must be why he can’t stop shaking. And his head, god, his head hurts. His joints, too. Each time he moves, mostly from the shivering, knives dig into his joints.

He really doesn’t want to be awake right now.

“Shh.” A hand smooths down his hair, another grips his hand.

“Nngh,” Dick mumbles, trying to turn away from the touch.

The hand follows, hushing him again and muttering something Dick can’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears. 

A pinch in the crook of his arm catches Dick’s attention, and he opens his eyes to find the source.

“Alfred’s just starting an IV, chum,” Bruce murmurs. “Lie still.”

Dick rolls his head to the side, trying to find Bruce’s face. His vision is blurry, he realizes. “Sorry I messed up. Really should’ve dodged that knife, huh?” His words slur, voice rough and not sounding nearly as light as he’d intended.

Something cold rushes into his arm.

Bruce pets his hair again. “It wasn’t your fault. You did good work tonight.”

The corner of Dick’s lips twitches, but he’s in too much pain to commit to a full smile. He wants to say something back, ask Bruce where this attitude was when he was first stabbed, but the sedative is strong and Dick doesn’t feel like fighting it. 

oOo

Dick doesn’t feel great when he wakes up next, but it’s not as bad as the time before.

He’s also alone. 

Dick moves his arms underneath him, and they shake as he pushes himself into a sitting position. He’s not in the cave anymore—he’s in his childhood bedroom. Turning his head, he finds he’s attached to monitors and an IV. His old alarm clock tells him in blue numbers that it’s eleven in the morning.

He shoves the blankets off of himself and turns himself until he can place his feet on the ground. His body protests the motion by sending waves of sharp, stabbing pain through his stomach. Dick passively presses a hand against his abdomen and takes a few slow, deep breaths to lessen the stabbing sensation. It doesn't help, but he adjusts to it enough to stand—

And dizziness promptly brings him to the ground with a crash. 

Pain shoots up his knees to his head, to his chest, and he gasps. He leans forward, allowing himself to slide into child’s pose to try to get some relief. 

But he doesn’t get any. The pain and dizziness come in waves, and soon he’s shaking and in desperate need of a bucket.

Footsteps pound against the ground nearby, and the vibration makes him groan.

“Dick?” Bruce calls, firm but not panicked. Dick sees his socked feet appear in his vision. The man bends down, runs fingers through his hair. “Let’s get you back in bed.” Bruce sounds like they’ve done this before. 

Dick grounds out, “Gonna puke.”

Bruce pulls him upright and shoves a trash can under his face, and Dick clutches it as he empties everything and anything in his stomach. By the end of it, he’s gasping for breath and his throat burns and his stomach is sore. 

“Bruce,” he whines, because it’s that bad and Dick needs him more than anything. “Bruce.”

A hand rubs against his upper arm. “I’m right here.”

Oh. He’d forgotten. It’s stupid, especially considering Bruce is behind him and the only thing keeping Dick from toppling over. 

“Done?”

“Uh-huh.”

Bruce moves, and then so does the bucket.

Dick slips to the floor and listens to the sound of a toilet flushing, then the water running. 

“Nnn,” Dick mumbles when Bruce suddenly lifts him into the air. He must’ve fallen asleep again.

“Shh.” Bruce sets him in bed and pulls the covers up, then he rests his palm against Dick’s forehead. “You’re still warm.”

Dick shakes his head, keeping his eyes closed. “Cold.”

“Feverish,” Bruce supplies.

“I’m sick?”

“Poisoned,” Bruce corrects, fiddling with an IV bag. 

“Oh.” That sounds about right.

oOo

Recovery is slow, but eventually the IV comes out and the monitors come off. The symptoms fade, though they’re resolved, to say the least. Dick’s still getting fevers, still getting bouts of unfightable fatigue, still getting random bursts of burning in his joints that leave him unable to move. On top of that, there’s the shaking, which turned out to be separate from the shivering. Bruce was worried they were seizures at first because of how incoherent Dick had been, especially around the shaking fits, but they checked and they’re not. 

With enough time, all of this should fade. No permanent damage is expected, and all Dick will have to remember this incident by is a scar on his stomach from the stab wound. 

And even though things _are_ getting better, right now his hands are shaking too much for him to safely handle a knife, so Bruce of all people is making him a sandwich. 

“Here,” Bruce says, sliding a plate toward him. Bruce cut the sandwich in half diagonally, just how Dick used to request it as a kid.

“Thanks,” Dick mumbles, ripping off a piece and placing it in his mouth. He chews mechanically. 

Bruce presses his hand against Dick’s forehead, and Dick leans away from the touch with an annoyed mewl. Bruce ignores it, and Dick resigns, letting Bruce’s hand check for fever for a few seconds before shaking it off.

“Do you want an apple?” Bruce asks.

Dick shakes his head and rips off another piece of his sandwich. The taste is fine, but he doesn’t really want it. He’s tired of being hungry, though, so he powers through.

Bruce slides onto the stool next to Dick, and Dick immediately reaches over to steal one of Bruce’s apple slices.

“I would have cut two, if I’d known you’d wanted some.”

“Should’ve asked me then, B,” Dick says, grinning as his shaky hand raises the apple slice to his mouth for another bite.

Bruce flicks his elbow. “Brat.”

Later Dick will get Bruce to watch movies with him like when he was a kid. Bruce will frown at first, but then he’ll give in, secretly happy for the downtime. It’s interesting how Dick finds himself enjoying this round of recovery; how prescribed bedrest has become synonymous with a vacation in their world.

Soon Dick will get bored with it, he’s sure, but for now, he’s enjoying spending time with Bruce and not having to worry about all of the world’s problems. He’ll go back to his reality soon enough, but for now, he steals another apple slice from Bruce and suggests they watch Treasure Planet.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! If you're feeling up to it, comments and kudos are always appreciated <3
> 
> [tumblr](https://daringyounggrayson.tumblr.com/)


End file.
